


All in Green, Went My Love

by SambliongPalpatine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A bit of torture, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:42:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24931729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SambliongPalpatine/pseuds/SambliongPalpatine
Summary: So, there’s something I must confess: I am actually a Ducifer fan, not a Samifer. I am not much of a Sam’s fan altogether. So as I debated between changing the pairings in my other fic I wrote this.This is just me dipping my toes minto these murky waters but I hope you can still enjoy it. A while ago I read a fic about Hanahaki where the affected character could turn into a plant and I thought ‘why not?’ And here you have it.
Relationships: Lucifer/Dean Winchester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 39





	All in Green, Went My Love

**Author's Note:**

> So, there’s something I must confess: I am actually a Ducifer fan, not a Samifer. I am not much of a Sam’s fan altogether. So as I debated between changing the pairings in my other fic I wrote this. 
> 
> This is just me dipping my toes minto these murky waters but I hope you can still enjoy it. A while ago I read a fic about Hanahaki where the affected character could turn into a plant and I thought ‘why not?’ And here you have it.

All in Green, Went My Love

So this is how he finally went; arms pulled up and chained to hooks on the ceiling, wings forced to remain unfolded and an array of bloodied Edelweiss littering the floor. They make an oddly beautiful picture, mixed with some white clover petals and some blue ones he doesn’t know the name of. 

What a way to go, he sighs. I mean, if these stupid, misguided angels don’t kill him then the flowers will. 

The scene of petals, roots and leaves bring to mind the verse of a poem he heard once, a long time ago. It went something like ‘all in green went my love ridding a great horse of gold imto the silver dawn,’ or something of the sort. 

But still, he thinks he understands it now. 

He never told the owner of his heart that he loved them, he never intended to. He just wanted to go in peace, in the middle of a field surrounded by his flowers and his love. All very poetic and befiting of him; to die alone and loveless, as he’s always been. Like he deserves. 

Here, in this shithole, he can admit to himself how much it hurt. 

Everything hurt; his stupidity that got him here, having his wings so exposed and mutilated yet again, the bloodied flowers mocking him from the floor screaming his unrequited love at him. At this point he isn’t sure where all the blood coating the flowers had come from. 

He should have never trusted Inneas. But by his father, he wanted to get rid of this stupid inconvenient Hanahaki disease. 

All because he was tired of the pitying looks Castiel gave him ever since he found Lucifer coughing a bounch of pink dahlias in a hidden nuke of the bunker. 

Just because he had Dean Winchester didn’t give him the right to pity him. 

The droplets of blood trailing down his face are suddenly mixing with the tears running down his cheeks cause his cuts to sting. 

His head is bowed, limp as if his strings had been cut loose; he is exhausted, bone-deep weary and with no strength left to raise his lulling head to implore his father. This would have to suffice then. “Father,” he starts hoarsely, “please forgive my ungratefulness but was this really necessary?” a coughing fit interrupts his speech, he spits a mouth-full of blood onto the already soiled flowers. “Haven’t I been punished enough? I already knew my love was unrequited, did I really deserve to have it shoved on my face?” a sob breaks loose from his throat, he is too tired to care about the display of weakness. Still he sniffs and goes on. “This is why you left me here, wasn’t it? So I came to love a human? So I learn to cherish and value them and see their worth and realize and accept I made a mistake millenia ago? Is that what you want to hear? That I was wrong? That I love a human that would never love me back and that I would gladly die for it?” another coughing fit but this time accompanied by more edelweiss; intact and beautifull to go join the others in the pile of blood and colorful petals. “Is it fair to continue to punish a child for an offence he already paid for? Is it fair to continue inspite the guilt he already carries? Is it fair to prolong a punishment he bears everyday since his release? Is it-“ he breaks off; the seeds and sobs in his throat make keep talking difficult. He sighs, defeated. “Just- just let him be happy, please. I would ask for you to let me see his face once more but somehow I think you wouldn’t even consider that,” his chuckle feels like sandpaper against his throat, the taste of dirt, the seeds and roots choking him, making him cough. “I’m sorry dad," he whispers, shutting his eyes tightly. 

A door opens, he can hear the footsteps approaching. They are too loud and hurried to be Inneas’ but Lucifer is out of it enough to notice such a detail. "I have nothing else to say brother," he says with a confidence he doesn’t feel. 

"Oh yes, yes you do," someone says. "You son of a bitch have actually a lot to say. But first I gotta get ya outta here."

That voice... Lucy doesn’t dare to open his eyes in fear of proving himself wrong and finding that his possible rescue is but a mere figment of his imagination. The scuffle and rattling of his chains sound real enough though. 

"Damn, this will hurt. Your wings- the hooks look pretty tight," the someone goes on mumbling. 

"Just.... just pull them free," he slurs, blood-loss has started to make itself known. 

"It’ll hurt," the person complains in his probable behalf. 

Lucifer thinks he shrugs but it may just be his conscience leaving him. "’M used to pain," he says. 

The person says nothing. In fact he neither says nor does anything the archangel starts thinking this was actually a figment of his imagination. 

Until excruciating pain threatens to break him in two. The hooks or whatever has his wings pinned rattled. He gritted his teeth so hard Lucifer thinks he might break some, he doesn’t want to risk someone hearing. Because surely if anyone were to enter-

The last pin is ripped, freeing his last wing and there is a loud crunch signaling the breaking of one (or several) dental pieces. 

“Alright, alright Luce. Sh, it’s fine, you’ll be fine. I just- your arms are still- ah,” his chains rattle again. 

And then one of his arms is falling loose and then the other and someone is catching him. 

His body is in agony, he’s shivering and coughing and bleeding and- and- 

A treacherous thought makes its way through the fog; telling not to let them see him like this, to hide his shame, his mangled and hideous wings already so scarred that not even himself can recognize them. He should make the effort of teleport to somewhere secluded, to die in peace with only but his shame and unrequited love as company. 

He can’t though, for the love of his father, move away. “You should’ve l-left me h-here,” he wheezes out with difficulty. 

His savior scrunches his face and shakes his head. “You’re family. We don’t abandon family.”

He looks up at the face of his savior, the most beautiful face he’s ever seen, then he coughs a bluebell and smiles before passing out. 

-

Warmth and softness are the two things that welcome the archangel back into the world. Considering he’d thought he wouldn’t wake up again this isn’t bad. 

At all. 

If he ignores the pull of roots every time he breathes, as well as the taste of dirt and seeds he isn’t in a bad place at all. 

He burrows his face into the softness beneath him and sighs contentedly. 

Little by little though, other small details start registering; the smell of rain and leather and lemon, the sound of the radio playing softly alongside a gentle breathing. 

Must importantly are the fingers carding through his hair affectionately. 

Lucy’s breath hitches and makes no further move than opening one eye a sliver to find-

Him. Dean Winchester reclined comfortably against the headboard, twirling a bundle of- of- oh shit. 

Oh. Shit. 

“I didn’t know flowers had such meanings.”

Lucifer jumps at the unexpected words. “W- whatever do you mean?” he plays dumb. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he answers with a question of his own. 

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, feigning ignorance still. “About the meaning of flowers? I did not know you were interested in them,” he sort of shrugs. 

Dean sighs. “You should have told us. You should have... you should have told me. We’d have helped you with searching for a cure-“

Lucy interrupts him with a snort. “There was no point in saying anything. No, don’t give me that look,” he admonishes unheated. “I knew from the beginning what awaits me in the end,” he explains quietly, eyes downcast. 

“Luce, there must be something we can do-“

The archangel interrupts him yet again. “There’s nothing to be done,” he says in defeat. 

Dean lays the bundle beside him. “Cass tried to explain this condition to me,” he says, having stood up and started to pace. “For what I understand, this is about love, right? So all you have to do is confess,” he stops in front of the bed with an excited bounce. 

Lucifer sighs for what it feels like the umpteenth time. “For it to work the feelings have to be requited. I already know they aren’t,” he says, trying- and failing- to conceal his dejection and sadness. 

Dean looks crestfallen now. “Have you told them? Maybe I could go... knock some sense into them-“

Lucy interrupts him chuckling hollowly. “Even when I appreciate your macho display, Dean-o, it doesn’t work like that,” he murmurs. 

He hears the man huff in eexasperation. "You could find someone who loves you," he murmurs, the fight abandoning him momentarily. 

Yeah, as if. 

Lucy stares at the small bouquet of his flowers; an aster, a dahlia, a clover, an edelweiss and a bluebell. He touches the soft, velvety clean petals with his fingertips; the proof of his love. Unrequited or not, it’s still love. His. 

"Do you really think it’s that easy, Dean Winchester, to find someone to love?" he swallows painfully and doesn’t look at the man when he next speaks. "Besides, what makes you think that I want to love someone else?” he asks in a near whisper. 

Dean scrubs a hand over his face in desperation,leaning a knee on the bed. “So what,” he makes an aborted shrugging motion, “you’re just gonna let this kill you?” he speaks deflated. 

Lucifer shrugs listlessly. “I don’t see another way.”

Dean lightens up when he seems to remember something. “You could-“ he starts pacing again, gesticulating excitedly. “You could take it away, right? You could ask Cass to take the unrequited love away,” he says, having stopped once more and is looking at him expectantly. 

Lucy jerks his head towards him with the intention of berating him, before he could say anything however, he starts coughing. 

The gagging sensation hasn’t become any easier. He gets tired of it and just pulls the damn, bothersome plant out. 

A stupid buckwheat. Holy father. 

He lets it drop atop the others which now are smeared with blood. Nothing can remain beautiful forever. 

“Luce,” Dean’s worried voice gets him out of his mind. The man is awkwardly rubbing circles on his back. “Please just- tell me who it is?” he begs softly. 

He turns to look at him sheepish. He’s such an emotional mess, isn’t he? He already has his time counted anyway, what’d be the problem with confessing? 

Would it really hurt that much to have confirmed what he already knows? Probably, but still. 

“I can’t do this to them when they are all ready with someone else,” he says blankly. 

Dean tugs frustratedly at his hair. “You’re an archangel, can’t you like do something?” he ends up adding. 

As if in mock response, the sensation of nausea and something climbing up his throat made themselves known. Lucifer flies, literally, to a corner of the room to vomit a bluebell and then proceeds to cough roots and blood. 

After a few rough breaths and wiping the blood from his lips he finally speaks. “I am already doing something by delaying this curse’s progress,” he says,testily. 

Dean frowns in confusion. “What do you mean ‘delaying the process’?” he asks. 

Lucy sighs; a long exhale of one that’s been suffering for years, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Archangel, remember? This flowery thing should have killed me months ago,” he leans back against the wall, suddenly tired. 

Dean’s jaw hits the floor. “Months?!” he throws his hands in the air. “So what, how long do you plan on going like this?” he says, raising his voice. 

Lucifer’s tired and hurting- physically and emotionally- so his temper just... flares. He pins the man hard against the wall using a bit of grace. “What do you care, anyway?” he stalks closer to the pinned hunter. “I’ll be dead dead this time, you’d be getting rid of me isn’t that what you wanted?” he raises his voice now, grace braking a glass in the nightstand. “I’m gonna be taking a problem off your hands, you won’t have to worry about me suddenly going berserker again and try to restart Armageddon,” he walks even closer. “So I don’t understand your whining, Dean Winchester,” he is now nearly nose-to-nose with the hunter. 

“What part of the last year makes you believe we’d want that?” he asks with effort. “Maybe before but not anymore,” he yells. 

Lucy flinches, he doesn’t like to get yelled at, he starts to loose grasp on his grace, therefore loosing the grasp on the hanahaki. 

And on the hold he has on Dean; making the man drop to the floor as if someone had cut a puppet’s strings. Lucifer falls to the floor as well. 

He is on his hands and knees; coughing violently, feeling as if he were to vomit his lungs out, blood splattering all over the floor. He gags and spits a buckwheat, perfect and beautiful despite the stains of red. 

"Luce," a soft whisper. A soft touch. "Luce, please don’t do this to yourself," a soft plea. 

Lucy’s arms start to tremble, making him topple sideways and he curles into himself all shaky and panting. He hugs his knees tightly and shuts his eyes, trying to keep the pain away. To no avail. 

Lucifer can feel his skin changing; it probably is looking purplish now and he’s breathing is weezing. Which only makes him curl on tighter. 

And then there are arms scooping him up, wrapping around him protectively as he was settled down on someone’s lap. 

A warmth breath is hitting the side of his face, oddly soothing to Lucy’s damaged soul but at the same time he starts to cough again. 

"Lucifer," a strong, gentle voice penetrates through the pained-fog, "you can’t just- please..." he swallows shakily. "What’s gonna happen to you?" he asks quietly. 

The archangel manages a wobley smile. "Turn into a Devil’s Tongue," he laughs breathlessly. "Isn’t that ironic?" 

Dean wipes the blood from the blonde’s face, shaking his head vigorously and pulls him tighter against him. "Shut up, just- shut up. Don’t say that," his voice wavers. "Luce, you can’t give up, Chuck knows you’re stubborn and that you don’t give up easily. So, why are you now?” he asks in a whisper. 

Lucifer sighs: he is oh so tired, he’s been tired for millenia he just was better at handling it. Now, now he just want to let go and slip into nothingness. "Of all the hopeless fights, this one is even more hopeless," he sighs again, burrowing deeper into Dean’s warmnth. "There is no point of putting either the other person or my through this. None at all," he mutters, closing his eyes. 

Dean lets out a frustrated sound and jostles him slightly. "You’ve ever considered that they might actually love you back?" his voice is a tad shy from yelling. 

Lucifer rolls his eyes. "I know they don’t. Why would they? I mean, have you met me?" he chuckles self-depreciating. "I’m the devil, I’m a broken shadow of what I used to be. Not even have half the power I used to have. My family shone me so why would anyone else want me?" he says, quieter. 

The moment is broken when he starts to cough and seeds ratle in his lungs with each wheeze and then there is blood trailing down his mouth and an Edelweiss tickling its way out. 

Dean groans and pushes him far enough from him to stare at Lucifer in the eyes. "Because you’ve learnt from your mistakes, you’re better and you’ve helped us a lot. Hell, you laugh at my jokes and enjoy my music and help me cook," he shrugs and grins a little. "Whomever it is you love that don’t love you are idiots. But Luce, I-" and here he pauses, taking deep breaths before finally staring directly into the archangel in the eyes. "I love you."

It is as if a thousand supernovas exploded and as if time stopped at the same time. 

The taste of dirt, the tickle of petals, the pull of roots and seeds are gone. The only evidence of anything are the bloodied flowers littering the floor and Dean’s wide, shocked eyes. 

"It’s me," not a question, barely even a statement. "It’s me," a breath. 

Lucifer snorts and pats Dean’s shoulder. "You have always been slow on the uptake, Dean-boy," he looks down at his writhing hands. "Of course it is you," he whispers in shame, despite the fact Dean just admited he loves him. 

Dean scowls at him but he still grabs Lucy’s hands to stop his fretting. "It isn’t as if you’d shown interest," he says, sighing. "You know I’m not good at this," he mumbles. Then he seems to remember something. "Wait, you said the person you are in love with was with someone else," his face scrunches in confusion. 

The heat creeps up Lucifer’s neck, he scratches his forehead and chuckles in embarrassment. "I, ah, may have mistaken your close relationship with Castiel as... something else," he has to swallow hard a few times to finish saying all this. 

Dean scoffs, ruffling the mess of blonde hair. "That’s just stupid. Me and Cass? Huh," he says thoughtfully. "I don’t see it." 

Lucy shakes his head. "Well, I can or I could at least," he huffs, "you should see your interactions from an outsider’s point," he says. 

"Luce,” the man speaks gently. "You should see our relationship from an outsider’s point," he says, tugging at one of the archangel’s hands. "If there was someone who got me, it had to be the devil," he says with a fond huff. 

Lucifer’s head snaps up, a remark ready on the tip of his tongue that dies when he sees the small smile on the other’s lips. He looks at their hands and laces their fingers together. "If there was someone who got me, it had to be a human," he smirks at the pretense of offense from the other man. 

The hunter tugs on their linked hands again, nearly making Lucy fall over into Dean. The hunter chuckles softly as he helps the blonde rearrange hjmself on his lap and wraps his free arm around Lucy’s waist. "I got you, you got me. Maybe we can get each other?” he asks with a silly eyebrow wiggle. 

Lucifer snorts a laugh and pushes his face away with his other hand. "That was the most stupidest thing ever," he complains. "But yes. It would defeat the point if I said no, wouldn’t it?"

Dean’s eyes glitter and gives him one of the most beautiful smiles. He doesn’t say anything, he simply leans forward and kisses him. 

Lucy smiles into the kiss, pulling his hand free so he could wrap both arms around Dean’s neck. "Yeah, this will work jusf fine,” he whispers between them and kisses him again.


End file.
